


He Called Me Honey

by almaasi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Bisexual Dean, Breakfast, First Kiss, Fluff, Flustered Dean, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Nesting Dean, Pancakes, Pet Names, Romance, Schmoop, Supportive Sam, and will undoubtedly give you toothache, set at any point after the bunker became a thing in 8x12, terms of endearment, this fic is NOT sugar-free
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: After having a weird dream in which he kisses Cas, Dean accidentally discusses the matter with Sam over pancakes. (Then Cas shows up. Dean is a flustered mess.)





	He Called Me Honey

**Author's Note:**

> A thing!!! It exists. Happy February, everyone. ♥
> 
> My thanks to [Libby](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/), [Laura](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/), and [Amara](http://sweetdreamspootypie.tumblr.com/) for the enthusiastic betaing.

Dean had watched enough tutorials on YouTube to know he was doing it wrong.

Filling a squeezy mustard bottle with pancake mix was easy enough, and squishing out a line of the mix onto the hot pan was child’s play (a sensible child, that is) – but when it came to actually making the lines look like a _thing_? That was another matter entirely.

So far Dean had made a cloud pancake (heavy rain imminent), a tree pancake (the tree surgeon was on their way), a rabbit pancake (someone get that poor creature a treadmill, _stat_ ), and an eyeball.

The eyeball did look like an eyeball. Dean did not want to eat it.

Sam entered the Bunker’s kitchen looking like he’d gone three rounds with a rabid haystack. Dean smiled over his shoulder, waving with his spatula. “Mornin’, Sammy! You look awesome.”

“Nh.”

Sam sat down at the bench, pulling Dean’s long-cooled coffee cup towards him.

“Still not sleeping, huh, grumpy?”

Sam closed his eyes and emptied the coffee down his throat.

“Well,” Dean said carefully, “here’s your consolation prize.” He set down a plate piled up with weird, uneven shapes. He grinned. “At least they’re all _cooked_ perfectly.”

Sam pulled the plate closer, stabbed the eyeball with a fork, and shoved it into his mouth.

“What, no syrup?” Dean complained, slipper-shuffling back to the stove before his bouncy-house pancake turned into a birthday party nightmare. “It’s right there on the table, dude; make use of it. Or there’s strawberry ice-cream in the freezer. Made it myself. But don’t you dare put syrup on your ice-cream. I like a good sugar rush as much as the next guy, but that’s just _too_ much.”

“Why are you so...” Sam said, chewing on one side of his mouth, waving his fork tines until he found the right word, “ _chipper_? You haven’t made pancakes in weeks.”

Dean rolled a shoulder. “Got a good rest, that’s all.”

“No nightmares?”

Dean smirked. But he forced his smirk away, looking back at his brother with a neutral expression. “Not for a while now.”

“Hmph.” Sam looked at his plate, watching a pancake slowly trying to escape his fork through means of gravity.

Dean took a breath through his nose, blinking a few times as he turned back to the pan. He squeezed out a curve, then a blob, continuing his line of pancake mix until the tip of the mustard bottle met with where he’d started. Ladle in hand, he poured until his question-mark-shaped pancake was filled in with creamy-white slop.

Like in dreams, the inner workings of his psyche often manifested themselves in his life when he least expected it. Indeed, he had a question in mind.

“Hey, Sammy?”

“Mmh?”

“Have you... uhhh.” Dean licked his lips, staring at the question mark as it sizzled, bubbling at the edges. “You ever...?”

He couldn’t find the words to finish his question.

He wanted to know he wasn’t alone, but asking if Sam he’d had the same experience would only expose Dean if he hadn’t.

“Wha?” Sam said, with his mouth full. “Have I ever eaten pancakes that look like dog poop in a wizard hat? No.”

“It’s an ice-cream cone!”

“Have I ever slept through the night in living memory? Huh! Next question.”

Dean touched his hand to his forehead. “I was gonna ask if you ever... dreamed... about...”

“About what?”

Dean gulped, and flipped his question mark over. The lined edges were darker than the well-browned middle, and they made the symbol stand out, his question more pertinent than before.

“About _what_ , Dean?”

When Dean still didn’t speak – choked up, blank-brained – Sam really started to wonder.

“About Mom? Dad? Jess— What?”

Dean shook his head.

Sam went quiet for a bit. Then he said, “Cas?”

Dean looked up, staring at the subway tiles on the kitchen wall. He breathed out, and his shoulders sank down inside his robe.

“Sometimes I do dream about Cas, yeah,” Sam said, understanding that he’d hit the nail on the head. “Usually when I know he’s in danger.”

“Ever get _nice_ dreams?” Dean asked.

Sam’s fork scraped the plate as he cut a pancake. “Not really. You?”

Dean couldn’t help but smile. The warmth of last night’s dream flooded him from the heart outward, putting heat in his palms and a tingle of joy in his chest. But then came the anxiety, and the fear, and Dean’s smile disappeared.

“Dean?” Sam had stopped eating, and Dean could tell he was being stared at. “What did you dream about?”

Dean shrugged one shoulder.

Funny how even a wordless movement like that could be a lie.

He took the pan by its handle, and tipped his steaming question mark onto the stack of bats, cartoon explosions and beach balls. There was still mixture left over for later, but he wanted to eat these pancakes before they got cold.

As he carried his breakfast to the bench, the visuals of his dream flashed in his mind’s eye. Castiel smiling – _laughing_ , his head tipped back, wrinkles around his eyes. Their hands joined on the wheel of the Impala, Castiel’s fingers linked between each of Dean’s knuckles. It felt so real, Dean felt their _heat_. And then came the heat of Castiel’s breath, pushing against Dean’s cheek. Lips sliding apart. Stubble dragging—

Dean almost dropped his pancakes.

With the plate righted, and gently set down opposite Sam’s, Dean took his place, and lifted his fork.

“What, no syrup?” Sam teased. He reached for the nearest bottle, picking it up. But as he moved it towards Dean’s plate, he noticed the label. “Oh, wait. This isn’t syrup, it’s honey.”

Lightning struck in Dean’s mind. “He called me honey,” he murmured, in absolute awe.

“What?”

Dean’s lower lip bobbed, eyes out of focus as he responded, “In my dream. Cas called me ‘honey’.”

Sam chuckled.

Realising how much he’d just revealed, Dean paled out. His cheeks went cold, then burning, _burning_ hot. “Shhhhhhit.” He covered his eyes with one hand, breakfast forgotten.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t a nightmare,” Sam said, one eyebrow rising. He offered Dean the bottle of honey. “So do you want some of this, or what?”

Dean peeked out at Sam between his fingers. Though his eyes watered with embarrassment, he could make out Sam’s blurry grin. If there was _any_ positive takeaway from this awful moment, Dean could be glad he made his brother smile.

Shaking his head fondly, Sam put down the honey. “You should go for it. Make a move.”

“Excuse me?”

“On Cas.” Sam took a mouthful of pancake rabbit, and chewed, continuing, “I mean it, Dean. Look, I dream about Cas when I’m worried about him. It’s just my subconscious reminding me I ought to call him, or drive to his last known location and look him up. Right? It’s a nudge in the right direction. The guy’s our best friend. If you’re dreaming about him like—”

“Like nothing,” Dean said firmly, frowning at his breakfast. The bat on his plate frowned back.

Sam insisted, “If you’re having dreams where you and Cas are... I don’t know, an _item_? Then maybe your subconscious is telling you something.”

Dean gritted his teeth and stabbed the judgemental bat pancake in the face. “Shut up, Sam.”

“Oh, _now_ who’s grumpy,” Sam said smugly, cramming more food in his mouth.

Dean simmered in an angry silence for a while. But then he sneered, “But Cas is our _friend_.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, too easily. “ _And_ you love him.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No I don’t. Shut up, Sam.”

“ _You_ shut up.”

“You shut up first.”

Castiel appeared in the kitchen entrance, trenchcoat swishing, looking quietly happy.

Sam looked up at the movement. “Hey! Cas!”

Dean choked.

Ignoring Dean’s spluttering, Sam got up from the bench, a big smile on his face. He walked towards their angel buddy, as Cas descended the stairs to the kitchen, and they met in a hug. Sam pulled back, asking, “What’ve you got there?”

“This?” Castiel looked at what he held. “Oh. It’s honey. I, um... picked it up on the way. I thought you might like to try it.”

“Well, would you look at that.” Sam turned brightly to Dean. “He brought _honey_.”

“Ah, you’re eating pancakes,” Castiel said, approaching the table, where Dean sulked, downing hard sips of orange juice to clear his throat. “At least—” Castiel paused, squinting at the peculiar shapes, “I _believe_ those are pancakes.”

“They’re pancakes,” Sam confirmed, clapping Castiel on the back. “Dean,” he smirked, “This is no way to greet your _best friend_ in the _whole wide world_. Get up and say hello already.”

“Mh.” Dean had put so much pancake in his mouth he couldn’t speak.

In a gentle motion, Castiel set the jar of honey down on the breakfast table. It was gloriously golden, clear enough to see Sam’s half-empty plate through, and a lump of honeycomb resided in the bottom of the jar, leaning aesthetically against the side. The jar was capped with a wax cloth, and tied with twine.

“For you,” Castiel said.

Dean looked down, swallowing his mouthful in hesitant gulps.

Getting to his feet, Dean eased himself closer to Castiel, tugging his navy-blue robe tighter around his chest. He managed a wonky little smile, eyes rising sheepishly to meet Castiel’s. “Hh,” he said.

He meant to say ‘hey’, but forgot. He was busy remembering the last time he’d looked into these incredible blue eyes, even if it had been an unconscious fantasy.

This time, a wash of heat rose to his cheeks, but it wasn’t worrisome, or embarrassing. It was just... nice. Dean’s breath caught – then shuddered, his lopsided smile grew, and he found himself dazed. Dazed with happiness. “I-I’m, uh,” Dean said, eyelashes fluttering, “Totally.” He waggled a finger in a forwards gesture. “Heh.”

Castiel had raised his hands at Dean’s sides, expecting a hug.

“Oh, you wanna—? Right. ‘Course. Okay. Here we go.”

Dean chuckled, bowing his head and sinking in to Castiel’s embrace. He shut his eyes as his chin met Castiel’s shoulder. He relaxed as his cheek pressed to Castiel’s coat. He pulled Cas in closer, hands around Castiel’s waist, and breathed out as his nose touched his friend’s neck.

“Awesome.” Dean pulled back at last, hands sliding down Castiel’s arms. “Good to see you, man. I mean Cas. Pal. Buddy. Friend.”

“You too, Dean.” There was light shining in Castiel’s eyes. Dean could just imagine those eyes crinkled in laughter.

Nervous, Dean glanced towards Sam. While Sam watched, he did so unobtrusively. He ate his pancakes standing up, plate below his chin, shovelling them into his mouth. He angled his fork above his plate, swirling it in an encouraging motion.

Dean looked back at Castiel.

Castiel gazed at Dean serenely, as if already realising that there was more interaction to be had. Usually he’d launch into a story about where he’d been, who he’d met, his traverses with wild bees and the story behind the honey jar. But as Dean stayed close, and could not speak, Castiel stayed in his grip, and said nothing.

Dean’s eyes drifted to Castiel’s lips...

It was then, in that silent moment, that Dean finally admitted to himself that Sam was right. He _did_ want Cas to kiss him, like in his dream. He _did_ love him.

Oh _no_.

But...

Maybe Dean could have honey _and_ strawberry ice-cream on his pancakes.

He could like women _and_ not-women.

And he could be best friends with Cas... _and_ be in love with him.

He _could_ have it both ways.

Perhaps it would be too much. But there was always a chance that he didn’t add enough sugar to his strawberry ice-cream, and the honey would be exactly what it needed. He already knew he liked both strawberry ice-cream and honey, separately. But how could he know how much better either could be, unless he tried both together?

After Dean’s five seconds of intense thought, Cas was still waiting. So Dean decided to go for it.

He wet his lips, eyelashes fluttering. “I, uh.” He flashed a grin. “See, I sort of have this... idea. That. Maybe you and I could. I don’t know. It’s kinda weird. But also kind of not, it depends. Like. Y’know?” He chuckled. “You know what I mean, right? Yeah, of course you do. Obviously. You’re an angel. You can read minds or whatever.”

Castiel blinked. “Would you be more comfortable if I _did_ know what you were talking about?”

Dean rolled a shoulder. Then he let it settle.

Without blinking, or letting his eyes flick away from Castiel’s, he replied, “Yeah.”

And so, Castiel knew. Dean felt the thought pulled from his head and duplicated in Castiel’s.

Dean felt his knees go weak.

“Honey,” Castiel said, with great amusement gleaming in his eyes. “You want me to call you ‘honey’?”

“What?” Dean felt his face go hot again. “ _No_! Not even a little bit.”

Castiel squinted.

Dean stammered, “Well, not like, _a lot_ a lot. Maybe a small amount. Like.” He held up his thumb and forefinger, a fraction of an inch apart. “That much.”

Castiel looked at Dean’s hand. He reached up to touch it, and pushed Dean’s fingers further apart. As far as they could go.

“That much,” Castiel said, matter-of-factly.

“Okay, that much,” Dean said, scowling. “So what?”

Castiel smiled at him. Then he chuckled, and wrinkles appeared beside his eyes. Dean’s frown vanished in his surprise – and as Castiel’s chuckle turned to a laugh, Dean began to grin. Castiel _guffawed_ , medium-sized huffs and haws tumbling from his mouth, lines pulled beside his mouth, stars in his eyes. He kept looking at Dean, meeting his gaze, then blinking tight, rumbling out another “Hurh, hurh...” until at last, he breathed in, only smiling.

“Dean,” he said gently, placing one warm, big hand on Dean’s forearm, fingers wrapped around him in a reassuring way. “What are you afraid will happen if you kiss me?”

Dean scoffed, desperate to pretend this was all wrong, and he didn’t feel that way at all.

But the words were out there now, and the longer he went without replying, the louder their echo in his head.

“I’m scared that—” Dean breathed out, pained and fragile. “That you won’t kiss back. Or you’ll pull away. Or Sam will laugh.”

“I won’t laugh,” Sam said. “In fact, I won’t even watch.” He put his plate in the sink, retreating with his hands up. He left the kitchen completely, and his footsteps shrank down the tiled hallway.

“Or,” Dean went on, “someday I’ll break your heart, or hurt you, or lose you.” Dean didn’t even take his eyes off Castiel, shaking his head. “I can’t do that, Cas. Not again.”

Castiel nodded. “All right.” He cast his eyes away. Then met Dean’s gaze once more. “Let me tell you something, Dean. Some of those things might happen. You’ve broken my faith in you before, and hurt me in many ways – and I’ve done the same to you. I’d be naive to think either of us won’t do it to each other again, regardless of our intentions – past or future. You may very well lose me, it’s true. But you are less likely to lose me than I am to lose you.” Castiel smiled. “I’m all but immortal.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah. Says you, who’s died about as many times as I have. Sam’s coming in third.”

Though he smiled at first, Castiel soon confessed, “My point is, my pain at any of these tragedies would far outlast your own. And I have long been willing to take the risk. I’ve only been waiting for your word. There’s even a chance that if we did... _become_ something else... our bond would grow stronger. There would be even more of a reason for both of us to remain steadfast, faithful, and alive.” He tilted his head. “If you were to kiss me, Dean, I would not pull away.”

“But would you kiss _back_ , though?”

“Yes, I would kiss back.”

“Oh.”

“I could even kiss you first, if you’d like.”

Dean’s lips parted. Somewhat helplessly, he nodded. “Oh—? Okay.”

Castiel cradled Dean’s jaw between his palms, fingers parted by his ears. Soft breath touched Dean’s chin, and his lips began to tingle, prickling as his face flushed with blood yet again. He felt his eyes water with fear and longing and tumultuous emotion, banging in his head, but as he felt the first press—

Everything vanished. Dean’s mind went quiet. His hands fell loose, floating empty either side of Castiel’s waist.

Castiel kissed so sweetly. Smoochy, mouthy, smushy kisses.

He turned Dean’s head, and he placed a soft bite against his lips.

He pushed in, and hummed a pleasant note.

He smiled. And he stroked his thumb against Dean’s jaw.

“Hmmmhmh,” Dean murmured, eyes closed, lips pouting and plush as Castiel broke their first kiss. Dean remained unmoving, still lost in a dream.

Castiel kissed him again, with a little more force – this time letting his tongue softly breach Dean’s border. Dean breathed out, relaxed, and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s back. He tilted his head to the side and sighed, finally releasing his worry and accepting how much he really enjoyed this.

The taste of honey sang on his tongue, transferred from Castiel’s lips. The scent of wildflowers clung to his breath, lifting from Castiel’s clothes. The humidity of springtime and the sting of its sunshine rays took his heart and his skin and made them both glow, rosy and golden and bright.

When Dean fell back by an inch, he was beaming. He gazed into Castiel’s eyes and found love there. Sweet, tender, affectionate love.

“How was that?” Castiel asked, in an unusually low voice. “Honey?”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Was like honey.”

Castiel blinked, then smiled. “That’s good.”

Dean inhaled. “Wait, you meant— Oh my _God_ , you actually—?”

Sam peered into the kitchen. “Is it safe now?”

Dean straightened up, grinning wildly. “Sam! _Sam_! He called me _honey_!”

Castiel smiled more subtly, his loving eyes lingering on Dean. “It’s true. I did. It wasn’t awful.”

“Well, it was _kind_ of awful,” Dean rolled his eyes, radiating delight in Castiel’s direction. “But not so bad I wouldn’t wanna hear it again.”

“Of course.” Castiel narrowed one eye. “Honey.”

Dean just laughed. He shook his head, taking Castiel’s hand. “You want some fresh pancakes, sunshine? I’ll, uh...” he sidled up close, pecking Castiel on the cheek, “pour a lil honey on them for you. Make ‘em heart-shaped.”

Sam snorted. “Judging by how the rest of your pancakes came out, you’re gonna be serving Cas a plate of bubble butts.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “I would not be adverse.” He looked expectantly at Dean. “Put freckles on them. Then I can be sure whose buttocks they are.”

If Dean felt heat in his face this time, it was absolutely because of the fire he lit on the stove. No other reason.

♥

Castiel covered his freckled pancake butts in a big spoonful of his special honey.

Dean did the same for his own second breakfast. And, for reasons he refused to explain to Sam, he dolloped homemade strawberry ice-cream onto both his own plate, and Castiel’s.

Perhaps the overall effect _was_ a little too sweet, at least for the uncultured palate. But doubling up on all the most important things in life? That was just how Dean liked it.

{ ♥ }

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, I HIGHLY recommend... just about [every Destiel fic I've ever written](http://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/works).  
> But especially this one: [**Note to Self: Cas Loves You**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13473885) (3k, drunk!Dean, Cas confesses his love). And probably [**Dean's List**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076473) (3k, Dean writes a list of dudes he'd ~go gay for~ (spoilers: he's bi)).
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who keeps coming back to read my fics!! I appreciate you all so dearly ♥  
> Love, Elmie x
> 
> [☆ tumblr reblog of this fic](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/171148678035/he-called-me-honey)


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